


In the Sight of Green Carnations

by Aylwyyn228



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Gay Bucky Barnes, M/M, Misunderstandings, Oblivious Steve Rogers, POV Steve Rogers, Period-Typical Homophobia, Pre-Captain America: The First Avenger
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-10
Updated: 2018-02-10
Packaged: 2019-03-16 09:10:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13633212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aylwyyn228/pseuds/Aylwyyn228
Summary: "What happened between you and Jimmy?"He caught the flash of movement out of the corner of his eye. Bucky had jumped upright, was twisted round in the bed to look at him. He looked pale. "What?"In which Bucky has a terrible day, and Steve manages to accidentally say exactly the right thing. Despite not knowing what the fuck is going on.





	In the Sight of Green Carnations

“I don’t understand what you were doin.”

Bucky didn’t answer, barely even looked up. Steve sighed and rewet the washcloth.

“You knew Jimmy McAllister was sweet on Violet.” He pushed Bucky’s chin up with his thumb and started to dab the blood away. “Even I knew it, so I know you did.”

“She don’t get a say in it?” Bucky was deliberately not meeting his eye.

“You know that’s not what I’m saying… Sorry.” He added, as Bucky flinched away from his hand.

“’S alright.” Bucky sounded exhausted.

“Look up.” Steve tilted his head towards the light. He clicked his tongue. “Shit, Buck. Your lip’s split bad. You need a doctor.”

Bucky pulled away. “Had worse.”

“Buck-“

“Leave it, Stevie. Goddamn it!” He stood up suddenly, forcing Steve to stagger backwards. “We can’t afford a doctor! Shit-” He stumbled slightly, hand to his head, eyes screwed up tight.

“Bucky?” Steve caught his arm. “You alright? You feel dizzy?”

Bucky shook his head wordlessly.

“Drunk,” he managed to spit out the word. Sat down heavily. “Shit. I’m gonna puke.”

Steve grabbed a basin from underneath the sink and turned away as he heard Bucky start retching into it. He busied himself changing out of his good suit, trying to decide whether to hang it back up or not. It smelt of smoke from the bar.

He tossed it over the kitchen chair. Bucky was going to have to wash his anyway.

“You alright?” He called as soon as Bucky went quiet.

“Mmmm.”

Steve went back into the bedroom. Bucky had discarded the basin by the end of the bed. He was laid back with his arm thrown across his face. His lip was bleeding again.

Steve wrinkled his nose as he picked up the basin to get rid of it in the other room. It didn’t take a genius to work out that the contents of Bucky’s stomach had been entirely liquid.

Steve came back and just watched him from the doorway for a minute. “Buck? You’re getting blood on your sleeve.”

“’S already on the collar.”

Steve smiled tightly. “Come on, pal. You ain’t sleepin in your clothes.”

Bucky didn’t exactly help, but he didn’t fight him too hard either. It was a warm night so Steve left him just in his briefs. It’d save on washing too, given the very high probability of him throwing up again before morning.

Steve settled himself on his own bed. “So, how bad is the room spinning?”

Bucky didn’t answer for a second. “It’s like… what’s that coaster with the loop?”

“I got no idea, pal.”

Bucky just hummed, and Steve laid back, replaying the evening over and over. The tight looks Bucky and Jimmy were shooting each other across the room. Bucky’s deliberate pursuit of Violet O’Leary, when there were a half dozen free dames making eyes at him all night.

The drinking.

He’d never seen Buck drink like that. Single minded. Seemingly aiming to wipe the evening from his memory.

Christ, Steve was surprised he hadn’t lost the whole week.

Steve looked across at him, arm still over his face, chest rising and falling steadily. “You ok, Buck?”

“Told you, feel like my stomach’s doin backflips.”

Steve smiled tightly. “I didn’t mean that. I meant… well, what happened between you and Jimmy?”

Bucky dropped his arm suddenly, looking at Steve, all intensity. “Whaddaya mean?”

“I just… I never seen you try and rile someone up so much. All night. I saw the look on his face when you came back from the bar, and-“

“’S nothin, just go to sleep.”

“It’s just, weren’t you friendly?”

“Steve.”

“Alright, I’m leavin it.”

The air felt heavy around them. Steve could tell from the quality of the silence that Bucky wasn’t asleep. He heard the sheets rustling as he turned over.

“We just argued, alright? It happens.”

“I know. Peter Schaffer told me.”

“What?”

He caught the flash of movement out of the corner of his eye. Bucky had jumped upright, was twisted round in the bed to look at him. He looked pale.

“Pete saw you argue. Jimmy came and found you at work. You were rowing behind the back of the pawnbrokers… You ok, Buck?”

“Yes,” Bucky said instantly. His voice didn’t sound like his at all.

“Well, Pete said you were real upset. ‘S that what tonight was about? I know you were friendly. You used to stay round at his, didn’t ya? When you’d been out drinkin?”

Bucky didn’t answer.

“Was it about Violet? I didn’t know you were sweet on her.”

Bucky shook his head. Steve saw him swallow thickly. “I ain’t sweet on Violet. That was just…” he ran a hand over his face, “that was something else.”

Steve just looked at him, trying to put it all together. Bucky weren’t the type to rile a fella up in a bar just for kicks. Or to try and steal his friend’s girl. He couldn’t help but think he was missing something.

“Was he treatin her bad?”

Bucky snapped up. “No! Jimmy isn’t… Jimmy wouldn’t ever… Ah, shit.”

Bucky’s face seemed to crumple, he dropped back onto the bed. It wasn’t until Steve heard his breath hitch, that he realised what was happening.

“Buck?” He jumped up, staggered across the room. Bucky had his face in his hands, was shaking with silent tears.

Steve dropped onto the bed.

“Bucky? Buck?” Steve was rubbing at his arm, helplessly. “What’sa matter? What’s wrong?”

Bucky wasn’t stopping so Steve was left just patting at him and murmuring meaningless shit into the air.

Eventually, Bucky dropped his hands, his eyes were red, face flushed.

“I’m sorry. I am.” He laughed, there wasn’t any humour in it, rubbed at his eyes. “You know I always get maudlin when I’m drunk.”

He didn’t.

Bucky was the nicest drunk Steve’d ever met, everybody’s buddy, and Steve was struggling to think of any time he’d seen Buck cry.

But he found himself nodding along anyway, anything to not call Bucky out in that lie.

Bucky made a grab for his hand, clutched it to his chest. “Don’t hold it against me, ok?”

For a second, he thought Bucky might start crying again. He was squeezing Steve’s hand tightly. It felt significant in a way that Steve couldn’t quite interpret.

“Of course not,” he answered slowly, and saw relief bloom across Bucky’s face.

Bucky released his hand, smiled weakly. As he did, blood welled up from his lip again, and spilled out down his jaw.

“Oh, Buck,” Steve cupped his jaw, “hang on.”

Steve grabbed the washcloth again, knelt back on the bed. “Hold still, pal.”

He tucked a finger beneath Bucky’s chin, leaned in with the cloth.

Just before he made contact, Bucky caught his wrist, gave a gentle squeeze. He held Steve’s gaze for a beat too long, and Steve had that same sense of significance he didn’t understand.

And then the moment was broken, Bucky released him, and looked away.

“Right,” the word left Steve’s mouth and plummeted into the silence, “let me see your mouth.”

He leaned in again, smiled. “Don’t puke on my hand, alright?”

Bucky licked across his lip, leaving a little smear of red across his teeth. “Makin no promises on that count, Stevie.”

His smile looked as real as it always did.

Or as real as it had for Violet O’Leary, at least.


End file.
